Nikolai: Mine to Protect (Russian Mob Chronicles #4)

I’m barely through my second cigarette when a scent I’ll never forget overtakes the smell of burning tobacco. From the corner of my eye, I watch Justine’s brisk pace slow. She’s spotted my watch through lowered lashes. Her throat works hard to swallow, fearful I overheard her conversation with her brother but incapable of hiding her excitement at seeing me again. Even annoyed, she can’t deny her attraction to me. I am her addiction as much as she is mine.

After dragging her eyes down my body, her lips purse as she fights desires greater than us both. They want to be kissed—to be bitten. She just can’t work out how to fill the gap between us without feeling as if she’s giving in. She doesn’t want to win, but she doesn’t want to lose either.

A tiny vein in her neck flutters when I bridge the gap between us. She seems shocked I’m making the first move, as if I wouldn’t shift mountains to reach her. I hate that. I promised her the world, and I intend to keep my promise—for once.

“No distance will ever be too great for me to travel to you, Ahren. Water divides land, but nothing can separate souls destined to be together.”

Justine’s eyes grow wide as she sucks in much-needed air for her overworked lungs. She looks seconds from crying, but instead, she pushes off her feet, reaching me in less than three heart beats.

With the determination of a tigress, she snatches the half-smoked cigarette from my lips. Orange embers float in the humid night air when she flicks it off the porch before attaching her mouth to mine. My lips part when she drags her silky-smooth tongue along the seam of my mouth.

Her eagerness leads to us crashing into the railing my men spend hours guarding like castle walls. She takes all the control, demonstrating that she’d move more than mountains to keep us together.

As her tongue duels with mine, her hand slips under my shirt to trace the fine hairs above the bulge in my jeans. I had wondered if hormones were at play when she demanded we leave the confines of her family home to accept Rico’s invitation for dinner. Now I’m wondering if her eagerness was just an excuse for some alone time. She’s practically stroking me through my jeans, awakening a beast no amount of armor could contain.

If she isn’t careful, I’ll bend her over the railing and take her in front of my men. A dragon can be calmed with a sword to his chest, but a snake can never be subdued. No matter how long you feed, love, and take care of a snake, you should always anticipate its bite.

The most poisonous people in my life learned that the hard way. They were weeded out by my venom. Only one person has survived the wrath of my bite: my ahren, my slice of heaven in a hot and temperamental place.

After kissing me until nothing but having her beneath me is on my mind, Justine withdraws from our embrace. Her lips are swollen from our kiss, and the scent of her needy cunt is lingering in the air, but it is the ownership in her eyes I’m paying the most attention to. They’re holding the same possessiveness they held when she told her brother she’ll never be on any team I’m not the captain of.

They also expose without a doubt that she’ll fight for me as fiercely as I will her. That I am hers as much as she is mine. That the only thing between us right now are the values of a misguided man and the damaged boy he left behind to pick up the pieces.

Vladimir may have raised me, but Justine raises me up. Those are two uniquely different things that deserve equally distinct responses.

The free-flowing white dress Justine is wearing swishes around her knees when I grasp her hand in mind before hightailing it inside. She giggles like a schoolgirl when we race through each room of the lower level of her house. We only stop weaving through the numerous highly decorated rooms when we reach the man I’m hunting as aggressively as I did the men who bid on Justine.

I’m not seeking a member of my crew or Roman. I’m after the man who will be incapable of denying me my greatest wish when he sees the devotion in his daughter’s eyes. It is her father. The only man I plan to triumph over without my blade.

I lower myself onto my knees in front of Justine’s parents before raising my eyes to my ultimate gift. When Justine mumbles something about it only needing to be one knee, my brow arches in silent question.

She slices her hand in the air, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s nothing. It’s fine. Please continue.”

I swish my tongue around my mouth to loosen up my words before saying, “Devils are angels who fell through the cracks, misunderstood rejects who won’t find their place until they’re guided toward the light by someone much stronger and more powerful than them. You are my light, Ahren, my beacon to good. You understand me like no one ever has, as you too are an angel who fell through the cracks.”

She nods, wholeheartedly agreeing with me.

“Your wings never broke as mine did, though. They wrapped around you like a cocoon, protecting and sheltering you from those who wished you harm. You never wanted to escape, to trust again, but your wish to stop others being hurt led to your metamorphosis happening before my very eyes.”

Pride swells in my chest when a timeline of our relationship rolls through my head. She was so shy and timid at the start, an angel trapped by the devil determined to devour her, yet she fought the undeniable pull and my unbendable demand. She was determined to show me a life I never knew existed.

She made me whole.

“You emerged from your cocoon to protect a man not worthy of you long before you considered leaving to save yourself. Now he must do the same.”

I notice several members of my crew, Roman, and Justine’s brothers surrounding us when my eyes drift to her father standing gobsmacked at the entrance of the kitchen. I expect their faces to be riddled with disgust, or at the very least, amusement. That’s not what I am seeing. They appear as joyous, shocked, and happy as me.

“Please.”

I have a trillion more words in my head, statements on how I’ll never let his daughter come to harm, and that I’ll protect and love her and his grandchild for the rest of my life, but additional pledges are not needed. The quick dip of Nathaniel’s chin assures me he heard the words I failed to verbalize.

Seeking guarantee that I didn’t misread his silent approval, I return my eyes to Justine. Her smile at my stunned expression squeezes the first lot of tears from her eyes. I almost stand to wipe them away but am reminded of the reason for my rare public display of affection when Roman removes a black box from his suit jacket to hand it to me.

I’ve had this ring for weeks. I had planned to ask Justine to marry me during our celebration dinner earlier this week, but I was the one left grappling for a sense of normality when family and friends emerged from the woodwork shouting “happy birthday.” Roman has been guardian of her ring since that day.

“I don’t have any doves. It’s probably for the best. I don’t think your mother would appreciate them crapping on the carpet.” Justine’s giggle is barely heard over the uproarious laughter bellowing around us. “But I do have a ring and a promise . . .” I wave my hand around her family home, which is dramatically different from the one we arrived at four days ago. “. . . to give you everything and anything your heart desires. You just need to say yes, Ahren. Say yes, and I’ll give you the world. You’ll want for nothing when you are my wife.” I lower my eyes to her tiny belly. “Neither of you.”

Justine’s hand envelopes mine when I cradle the tiny bump in her stomach. She doesn’t care about the ring or the size of the diamond in the middle of it. All she cares about is me and the promises she knows I’ll never break.

And perhaps granting me my greatest wish with the simplest dip of her chin.